From Dust to Ashes
by muldahhh
Summary: Post Red Wedding. Catelyn has a few visits in some places.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone in this fanfiction.

**Spoilers**: A Strom of Swords. RW.

**Rating**: K+, in case.

**A/N: **Kind of request. Something of the kind Robb & Ned fic, but from Catelyn's POV. God, Cat feels are the worst. And hard to put in the words. Anyway, here it is.

Don't read if you haven't read A Storm of Swords!

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**FROM DUST TO ASHES  
**

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**I**. Catelyn remembers –

_(I swear we will forget this... forget all you've done here.)_

- remembers everything.

Sigil towers blue as sky. Drums loud as hell. Steel cold as stone. Knife sharp as teeth. Voices trembling like drowning. Pink deadly as dusk.

Her hands are like lead when she raises them to her throat, to face.

Everything around explodes with red. (Just after seconds, she realizes that's her blood. As dark as lonely was her scream. Dust fills her mouth.)

**II**. Drums stopped.

Catelyn opened her eyes, and closed them again, blinded by light. The sun shines that brightly only in the Riverlands. It means home.

She sat on the ground, looking all around her. Summer, such a sweet and beautiful summer. Grass was green and fresh, and a small river was there, just next to her. Cat took some crystal, cold water in her hands, drinking it and feeling nice cold running through her body. Water was still; it perfectly portrayed her face… Not torn, not tattered. Just very pale, and even younger than now days. She smiled, as for a try, but it seemed so… unnatural.

Her dress was simple, dark blue, reminding her that one she was wearing when she first met Brandon Stark at home. Still, she could perfectly picture his high forehead, dark eyebrows, grey eyes cold as ice. He didn't smile at her back then, and she was so nervous, and… disappointed. The North never seemed that inaccessible as in that moment.

She nodded her head and went with the course of river, leading her to Riverrun. Catelyn couldn't help but thought about her childhood, playing with not bitter yet Lysa and Petyr… Then she used to think he's sweet and loyal friend but kind of… too loyal for his own good.

_I_ _couldn't_ _be_ _more_ _wrong_, she thought, remembering her sweet little sister taking care of Edmure. He was such an annoying child. Cried very often, especially at night, had mood swings quite much as for someone who hasn't even lived for year. They used to sing him songs, not exactly proper for a child…

Cat sang, while opening gates of her old, sweet home:

_World is like monster,_

_Ready to bite you anytime._

_So run away, my dear child,_

_Run away somewhere where sun never sets down._

Castle wasn't empty, actually. Everything was in move – horses in stables, the most beautiful ones in the whole Westeros (she always believed in this, when she was giving them some sugar in a secret), her uncle Brynden who patiently was trying to teach Edmure some hard bend with sword, a cook, Tasha, always reminding her about not overdosing salt in soups, Lysa holding Petyr's hand and whispering something in his ear.

In the end, she even saw her father, and it felt the most painful – he was as he used to be before Robert's rebellion, full of strength and joy. His eyes met hers, and Catelyn was sure he does see her. She could hear Hoster Tully saying: "Come there, my little Cat", so she did, running over Riverrun's place.

But that smile and his whole person faded away, just like memories of life she once had.

**III**. Winter is coming, winter has came.

She didn't remember if there was ever that cold here, in the North. Snow has fallen at least a few days ago.

Catelyn raised her head, looking at Winterfell, and feeling as her heart is beating slower and slower. A moan came out of her mouth, tears streamed down over her face

_(the white tears and red ones ran together)_

as she watched dead place she got used to call home.

Everything was destroyed, every tower, every building, to pure stone. Burned down and (she could still smell that in the air, killing fire and ashes to ashes) covered with snow, white and fresh, like it wanted to hide evidence of crime, bury deep in the ground memories from place where they died. Watch of Winterfell. And her sons.

First time she visited this place seemed to be centuries ago. Back then, she was already married to Ned, and this big, dark place felt for her… empty. Just like now, when she came into the castle, or rather it ruins. She couldn't think now about saddest place than this, not only because greatness has fallen, it was more personal.

_Will_ _someone_ _run_ _over_ _these_ _corridors_ _ever_ _again?,_ Cat asked herself, when she had to left the castle, wasn't able to go further. Bran, when he still had functional legs, loved to climb, and that always scared her. Rickon was the one to play in hide and seek, in the weirdest places. Sansa preferred to talk with her friend Jeyne outside, especially when the weather was nice. Arya loved to practise with a bow, Robb – sword. But corridors never were that empty and dead as now.

Somehow she found herself in the godswood. She never liked this place, it was too dark, always filled with heavy air. Now, it was the only place that reminded untouched.

The heart tree was staring into her soul.

_Gods are cruel, _Catelyn sobbed, kneeling on the ground_. _Snow started to fall again_. The old ones and the new. Family. Duty. Honor. I swore on my honor, I did my duty. Where's my family?_

Some time passed before she noticed – it wasn't snowing anymore. In general, there was no snow after all. Feeling much older, she get on her feet and looked around. Air was warmer, light.

Stepping away from the godswood, she saw… Winterfell wasn't dead anymore. Like it was never destroyed. Cat couldn't catch her breath. And then there was a flash of white fur.

"Lady!"

Sansa's direwolf barked at her and waved long tail. Then she ran into the castle. Catelyn wanted to follow her so bad, having a feeling she will meet them there, but –

- suddenly, it all drowned in red.

**IV**. Lips that kissed her was even more dead and marbled than hers. She wanted to scream _No!_ but no sound came out of her mouth, only the throat felt like it was set on the fire. Taking first breath was like torture. This life wasn't worth it.

_Catelyn Stark is truly dead. And there's an empty place in the value of her heart. Turned in stone, covered with ashes, _thought Lady Stoneheart.


End file.
